


Leaving Cartanica

by medical_mechanica



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, For Catharsis, Gladio Knows He Did Something Wrong, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Other, POV Prompto Argentum, POV Third Person Limited, Past Violence, Post Altissa, Post Cartanica, chapter 10, the heart of a king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 23:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medical_mechanica/pseuds/medical_mechanica
Summary: The train kept steaming on ahead, endlessly and without pause, away from Accordo, away from Lucis, closer to Tenebrae, and ever more toward their final destination: Gralea. It was now that the low and consistent rumble of the engine and tight walls became oppressive, as if the tracks before them came to an inevitable but abrupt end and he was helpless to stop it. If anyone had cared to ask Prompto, he just might have replied that they may as well be heading straight for a cliff.But he couldn’t say that, not when Gladio and Noct had finally stopped fighting.Prompto tried to ignore the growing ache in his jaw.





	Leaving Cartanica

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



> Edited by invisibledeity
> 
> For art by Kaciart

Prompto couldn’t help but notice the way his body gently swayed in time with the train car, right to left and back. It hadn't even been an hour since they had left Cartanica, and already the trip into the Royal Tomb felt like a lifetime away.

He had chosen to watch the sunset in the dining car. Its inappropriately early rays bounced off the chrome lining in the seats and window panes, casting odd patches of intensely strong light, and he had sat there, not hungry, content to watch the ebb and flow of the his fellow passengers, crossing the pools of light carelessly, casting even stranger shadows along the wall. The light faded as quickly as it appeared. 

It would have been nice to snap a few shots, but no one would available to share the evidence with later. Noctis had coasted straight off to sleep shortly after they had departed, Gladio had stomped off somewhere, and well, there was Iggy, but… his spirits snagged before they could rise, and fell as fast as the encroaching night spanning above the train. What good was it taking photos of a trip you didn’t want to remember?

But they had found the next Royal Tomb, together. Even with Iggy in his current state, they had proved that they could still function, and as a team. Prompto should have been psyched, but even as he peered up at where his emotions were supposed to be functioning, they hung low overhead. Ever since they had departed Altissa, the weight in his chest grew with time and distance; growing dread coursed through his veins and kept him from sleep.

Their trip, the world, everything, was off kilter. Somewhere along the way, everything had gone so wrong. Prompto couldn't shake the feeling that they were running late; they had taken a wrong turn and only had to double back. He could almost remember the wedding as it should have happened, echoing in his mind like a phantom limb, the shots he would have taken, the way he wanted his suit to fit. His brain rewriting the way the world fell away when they had finally found Noctis and … not … 

Guess he’d never get to meet Lady Lunafreya now.

Prompto sucked in air too quickly, his own thoughts winding him. Pushing aside the thought threatening to choke him, he noted how the warm lamplight in the cabin was such a weak substitute for the earlier sun. Most everyone had cleared out at that point, leaving him with only a few folks lingering in the back booths. Even the kitchen had closed. The chef, if you could call him that, followed the last group out.

And still, the train kept steaming on ahead, endlessly and without pause, away from Accordo, away from Lucis, closer to Tenebrae, and ever more toward their final destination: Gralea. It was now that the low and consistent rumble of the engine and tight walls became oppressive, as if the tracks before them came to an inevitable but abrupt end and he was helpless to stop it. If anyone had cared to ask Prompto, he just might have replied that they may as well be heading straight for a cliff. 

But he couldn’t say that, not when Gladio and Noct had finally stopped fighting. 

Prompto tried to ignore the growing ache in his jaw. As the light outside finally faded, he caught his reflection in the window beside him. It was jarring. The face that peered back at him seemed to have aged a few years in as many months. Sad satisfaction washed over him as he noted his weight, he really had lost more than intended; his cheekbones sunken, the corners of his eyes redder than usual, bags accompanying them. If it weren’t for the fact he looked like crap, a younger version of himself would be jealous.

Just under the skin, over the origin of that ache, gentle purple had arisen in a shape that Prompto tried to ignore. Fingerprints. His heart fell.

How long had that been there? Had the others seen? It couldn’t have been there long, right? They would have said something.

They would have, right?

His gaze fell to his hands, uselessly grasping at each other on the table, glad that the worse side was the one facing glass. He ignored the tug in his guts, willing himself numb while the memory of his same hands running over tattooed skin, bodies close, and the sensation of a broad hand cradling his head so tenderly morphed into one that shoved him so hard he spun and crashed against an armrest in the narrow aisle. 

Prompto huffed and grit his teeth, disturbing the relative quiet of the train car, unwilling to follow that train of thought any further. 

Not that it would be the first time. He, of course, had been smacked in the face after running straight for a cactuar, who thought it would be funny to use the Shield’s shield as a springboard. As the big guy had turned, Prompto went flying face first into his fist. Honest mistake. He wore that shiner for about a week, which had felt about twice as long due to the endless teasing.

But that had been then, on a sunny day in Duscae. Prompto frowned. The bruise was going to stay for about as long. Maybe he would swap vests, the higher collar of his other outfit might be enough to distract from the blemish. Maybe. He could just ignore it, or pass it off as battle damage, but… 

The rest of his body ached then, back and knees stinging from use just enough to derail his train of thought. Cartanica was the first real run as a group since they had left Lucis, and a few residual dings from that Malboro reminded him that he had to be better now, more efficient.

It was then the car door opened, and even without looking, he could spy tattooed shoulders and familiar stance.

Gladio.

He hung back for some reason; Prompto, unwilling to meet his gaze, took to studying his hands and desperately hoping the bruising couldn’t be seen from where he was standing.

It wasn't like he was angry… he just, didn't know what to say. They got to the tomb. Iggy made the choice to stay. They were all good. Prompto couldn't bring himself to think of anything else worth mentioning. Nonetheless, Gladiolus stepped forward, stopping next to Prompto’s booth.

“Where’s Iggy?”

Prompto had to speak, before an awkward silence could descend. 

The taller man placed a hand on the back of the booth opposite, eyeing the empty counter instead of the figure before him.

“With Noct.” The Shield’s tone was even, which for some reason surprised Prompto. Still, he kept his gaze turned downward, side-eyeing the way Gladio’s reflection caught the light.

“Can I sit?”

Shit.

“Uh… Yeah, sure. ‘Course!”

Prompto scooted over to make space as the other moved to sit opposite.

The tattooed man stopped short, shooting back a confused look.

“No, it’s uh, it’s - we’re all good,” the blond twisted his mouth into a smile, moving back to the center of the bench and forcing himself to meet the other’s eyes, landing on his collarbone instead. Close enough. Gladio didn’t sit down.

Shit.

Prompto blinked at him, fake smile plastered on with old glue, slowly peeling away upon realizing that from where the Shield was standing he could catch an ample glance at the gunner’s jawline and the mark that was there.

_Shit shit shit shit._

He choked in staccato. 

“I, uh, we did great today! I’m… um, really glad that we - that everything worked out…” Prompto turned away not long after he began talking, as if he was suddenly very interested in what lay outside the window. Which was now in complete darkness, leaving nothing but his reflection.

The big guy sat down beside him, arm draping around the back of the bench and taking up the remaining space in the booth. While Prompto wanted to relax into the constant warmth Gladio seemed to put out, he felt trapped, pressed up against a rock and a hard place. Well, a Shield and a hard place. 

Shit.

He didn’t want to do this right now.

What was there to say? 

They all did great together. 

Everything was okay.

Prompto’s hands grasped each other again, and he prayed to whatever remaining gods were around for the exchange to be over. But silence stretched on for several moments, and it was enough to drive him to shoot over a curious glance to his companion, who was respectively staring a hole into the seat before him.

Good gods, did he look tired. Of course, spending a day picking off beasts and daemons would wear anyone out, but Prompto hadn’t seen the other man look that tired since, well, since… the Fall.

Apparently, Prompto hadn’t been the only one run ragged by the past few months, and suddenly the blond felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. They had both been covering for Iggy and Noct for so long, and as they grew closer to their final destination, it was only becoming more and more apparent. 

Gladio wasn’t angry, he was scared.

Prompto bit his lip and looked away again, trying to quell the gnawing in his gut.

“Listen,” Gladio rumbled, shifting his gaze opposite the blond. Prompto turned his head in response, but found himself studying the window panes again instead of looking anywhere near his companion. He could hear a deep inhale.

“Prompto, I-” The train lurched to the side, throwing them just slightly off balance. Gladio brought his other hand to the table to steady himself, and Prompto knocked back into the taller man’s arm. Unwittingly, their gazes met. 

Prompto wanted to melt, the warm brown eyes upon him shining in the lamplight. The hard, piercing glower that the blond had been expecting was actually so… soft, yet unyielding. He had seen this look before, after they had taken in a hurt chocobo and Gladio had to carry it back to Wiz’s. The whole way back, it cried. While the Shield had put up a strong front for the first half of the trip, by the time they had returned, the big guy could hardly pull himself away, murmuring “Oh, no… Shhh, it’s going to be okay. You’re gonna be alright. Shhhh…” Prompto could so clearly hear the words despite the hushed tone, and had swooned. That was the moment he realized he wanted to trust Gladio with his life.

They were okay. Everything was fine.

Just as Prompto felt himself leaning in, Gladio brought a gentle touch to his ear, eyes narrowing on the bruising. Suddenly, it was far too cramped, and Prompto’s breath hitched.

It was then blue eyes blinked away to the tattooed arm on at the table, and it took all that he had to contain a cringe.

Gladio, to his credit, looked stricken and withdrew.

“Prompto, I-” he tried again, only to be cut off.

“It’s fine! I guess I just knocked into a rock fighting that Malboro!”

“ _Bullshit._ ”

“It’s okay! We’re all-”

“Cut the crap, Prompto!” Gladio brought his fist down onto the table, grabbing the attention of the last remaining passenger in the car, who left in short order. It was then he seemed to remember himself, and sighed pointedly. When he looked back to Prompto, he must have noticed his eyes welling with tears, because his face fell yet again. Shame streaked his features as he looked away.

“I know what I did.” 

“I know… but…” Prompto tried, blinking away moisture, desperately reaching for his ability to restore his mask. Gladio caught his gaze dead on again, eyes puffy and stained with irritation as he ran a hand over the surface of the table.

“I'm sorry.”

Those two words were barely mouthed, but they broke the gunman, and a sob escaped his chest. Gladio watched the blond deteriorate, eyes bright, usual veil of stoicism torn to shreds.

“It’s not okay,” Prompto gasped, wishing he could curl up into nothing. Gladio shook his head, pained and repentant expression all too real.

“It’s like… you didn’t even see me,” Prompto’s voice broke, tears falling down his cheeks, “None of this is okay.” He pulled away from the other, denial fading away like sunlight. A dejected Gladio moved to stand. The train car grew colder as the man peeled away, and Prompto reached out before he could stop himself. He caught a hand, desperately coming to grasp the other’s last three fingers.

Gladio froze. Prompto inhaled deeply, grip unfailing. 

They both looked, not at each other, but their hands. A broad palm slowly turned to meet the anxious grip around his fingers, intertwining assurance.

Gladio returned to his seat, stretching an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and pulling him in. Breathing a long held sigh, the blond let the warmth of his partner wash away the tension in his shoulders. In the dim lamplight, Prompto eyed the veins in his hands, knuckles white as he gripped hard enough to hide how his hands wanted to shake. Very softly, he swore he heard a gentle “shh” from the other, before his grip was returned in kind. With an even inhale, Prompto leaned until temple met collarbone. He could feel a cheekbone pressed against the top of his head.

Minutes stretched on as they sat in silence, nothing to hold onto but the other.

The train barreled on, an encroaching snow storm invisible in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been meaning to write this for a while, but was given the context after Kaciart finished a beautiful illustration of this moment. Thank you for the push!
> 
> And thank you so much invisibledeity, for editing the mess that came out of my brain, and coming up with some of the better lines in the story.


End file.
